


Riddle Me This, Tom

by Daerwyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, On the Run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:44:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has changed over the summer, but it's not a change she had any control over. Forced to make friendly with the Slytherins, she finds they truly aren't as bad people as she previously assumed. Taking a daring bet from the Slytherin girls, determined to prove to them that she can have fun and let loose as well, she doesn't realize the severity of her actions. Pissing off Daddy, Snape, and Dumbledore all in one time leaves Hermione with very little room to back up into. Harry's inevitably along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There were five uses for unicorn hair. Peregrine Fell had deduced that much in all of his studies throughout his life. Hermione Granger, too, had memorized the uses and had reread his autobiography fifteen times in order to fully process and understand each use. The first, and far most common, was wandmaking. Though her own wand was made of dragon heartstring, unicorn hair was the core of her best friend, Ron Weasley's, wand. He was also more often than not her _boyfriend_. She hated the term. It sounded so primary school.

The war had made them grow up. They were no longer "boys" and "girls," but "witches" and "wizards." Though, the term was better than "wizardfriend" admittedly. And they weren't quite lovers, so that term couldn't be applied either. Snogfriend wasn't... well it wasn't a word, or any proper slang, so she supposed that, however accurate, wasn't what fit them, either. But he liked boyfriend. He liked it when she called him that. Perhaps it was his simple mind that couldn't keep up a constant conversation with her, or maybe it was his lack of interest. He was a boy.

But not even Peregrine Fell could keep her distracted from the anger that came along with thinking of her ginger friend. He was so infuriating. Always picking fights with her, teasing her for going to the library, or making good marks, or doing anything better than him. Why he thought she'd be a Lavender and dumb down so he could be smarter than her, she never knew. It wasn't like she was the type to not be competitive, or ambitious. He knew her better than that, or, at least, she thought he did.

So she had escaped to the library, to the cozy corner that was always where she went, and had lit a small candle and tucked her knees to her chest as she leaned against the stained glass window that overlooked the lake. The book was floating in front of her as she struggled to keep warm with the winter chill, her arms tucked tightly around her legs and her jumper entwined with a heating charm. It didn't seem to help.

"Trouble in paradise?" She didn't need to look over to know who it was. As she moved her wand minimally, the book turned a page. Only one other person had discovered her library hide out, and only because he studied within it as well. In fact, it was his study area at first, and she had invaded. Not intentionally, as they had always stayed here at separate times before. When they discovered that they had been using the same area - for the same amount of time - they had made a civil agreement to share it, as long as no one found out. So she took the window and he took the table. It was an agreement that had come naturally.

"Hell," she corrected. "Far from paradise." Her lips twitched into a smirk much like the one he always wore. "You don't have your bag," she observed with a quick glance in her peripheral vision as she turned yet another page she had already memorized. "Are you here just to interrupt my studies, Draco?"

The white blonde wizard with impossibly blue-gray eyes seemed amused by this. "If by you mean your father, then yes. You already memorized the book. Why you need to know that rubbish is beyond me anyway."

"Some things fascinate me," Hermione returned, turning yet another page as she pulled her legs closer to her. "For instance, I know twenty different ways to sabotage our potion tomorrow without you even noticing. And another thirteen to right it before you even start to panic as it melts the cauldron. Also, there are fifty-seven different elements in which we'll be using, and thirty of them are highly explosive when reacted together. Has Professor Slughorn realized this? Of course. Does he care? No. Why, you may ask. The answer is simple. He believes that in his classroom, his students are stars that are incapable of mishap. You and I, however, know better. With Seamus Finnigan in our class and the chemicals, there is no doubt that at least eighteen of us will be dead by the end of the period."

"Eighteen?" Draco smirked, leaning back on the table and resting his hands on the edge of the surface beside him. "That's a pretty high number."

"That's counting the immediate vacinity around Mr. Finnigan's cauldron and then Seamus and his lab partner themselves. The immediate vacinity is necessary because of the reaction time for them to get out of the way of the blast would be, regretfully, too long for them to properly shield themselves. And that is why you and I will be the only ones to survive our Potions class to the end of term." Hermione glanced at him, daring him to tell her she was wrong. He was wise and didn't.

"Your father does request a chat."

"And I had thought that my incessant rambling may provide a distraction so you forgot," Hermione smirked back, her book shutting as she finished it. She glanced at Draco fully for the first time and noticed that he was only wearing a white button up and black trousers. "Do you know why he wants to talk to me?"

"Do I ever know?" he returned. She had to agree with that. Dropping her legs, she blew out the candle and rose, her arms hugging to herself to keep her warm. "Where's the Boy Wonder and his slobby sidekick?"

"Quidditch," Hermione answered. Her fingers closed around her book and she shoved it on the shelf before she approached Draco. "I suspect they won't be back until just before dinner."

He smirked widely, then, reaching for her wrist and pulling her inches in front of him. His warm breath on her forehead instantly warmed her, and his hand on her wrist made her feel warm on the inside, flushed, and something else. Something great. He tucked a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear. "Have I ever told you that you need to dump Weasley and get done with? I'm much more better looking."

"It'd also give the entire school a heart attack and your reputation would be questionable to those that don't know the truth," she returned. "And you've told me quite frequently."

"Have I ever told you... that I like your hair better this year?"

"Yes," Hermione stated, rolling her eyes. "It's not as bushy, I'm quite aware. You can thank the Weasley twins. Shall I go write them?" She pushed away from him. "We need to be more careful. I may have knicked Harry's map for now, but he'll ask for it back soon." She reached for her bag. "I can't keep going to the Slytherin Common Room."

"We'll have to work something out, then," Draco admitted. He glanced at the expensive watch attached to his wrist, grimacing slightly. "I was supposed to get you to your father three minutes ago. Can we get moving?"

She nodded, shouldering her bag and placing a disillusionment charm over her, keeping her away from prying eyes. It wasn't just the fact that she met with Draco that caused the problem. He was happily dating Astoria Greengrass, not the Gryffindor Princess. Though they did meet in private, it was nothing more than a civil conversation and maybe some conversation that verged on academic debates. She only had the Marauder's Map so that when they met in the library, or when he took her to the Slytherin Common Room to use the Floo, Harry had no knowledge of it. But Harry would ask for it back, soon. It would be suspicious if she kept it for longer than necessary, in his eyes. As far as he was aware, it was just for late night excursions to the library.

She hated to lie to Harry, but that was a must. If he ever knew the real reason... She was screwed, Draco was screwed, everything was rubbish.

"Superiority," Draco stated to the portrait before the girl was allowed through. Ever since second year, when Harry and Ron had polyjuiced themselves to be Vincent and Gregory, and they described the Common Room vividly, she had a deep fascination with it. She hadn't seen it with her own eyes until the beginning of the year, her sixth. The windows didn't look out into the forest, but instead the Black Lake. If one squinted, the giant squid could be visible floating past in the murkey water. It almost made her wish she was in the Slytherin house, just so she could stare into the water's depths daily. Perhaps she'd frequent the windows more than the library? 

"Oi, look, Granger's here," someone said from across the room. Hermione glanced in that direction and spotted Blaise Zabini, a dark skinned Italian with a proclivity in Arithmancy, just as Hermione did. They had been partners previously and were on the verge of friends before everything had happened this year. He wasn't a bad guy, like most of the Slytherins were raised to be. He was a romantic, more interested in literature and history and arts than the Dark magic that his classmates were learning. He hadn't taken the Mark as most of the sixth and seventh year Slytherins had. He claimed neutrality in the war, but would help his fellow Slytherins if needed in anything. Hermione had been able to save him from forcibly taking the Mark, something he would be eternally grateful for.

"And Zabini's catching up with the ladies, it seems," Hermione returned, a small smile on her lips. It was true. Daphne, Astoria's elder sister, was playing chess across from him, her white blonde hair draping down the side of the table as she leaned against it. Pansy was sitting besides Blaise, getting help on her Arithmancy homework. She knew he held no interest in either of them, despite Hermione constantly insisting that he and Daphne would be extraordinary together. They were practically the same person, just Daphne was female and Blaise obviously male.

"No time for chit-chat, Granger," Draco snapped, shoving her forward until she reached the blazing fireplace that was four times wider than that in the Gryffindor Common Room. It was the only source of light in the Slytherin Common Room, and it was Hermione's favorite place to curl up and read. It was so warm, all the time. The Floo had long ago been charmed by a few brilliant seventh years so that the Floo could be used without detection from Dumbledore. It was times like this that she was forever grateful for those Slytherins. She knelt before the fire, seeing the figure in it already waiting for her. Sticking her head into the flames, she was in the Floo call immediately, the serpentine face watching her.

"I have been waiting," he hissed.

"I know, and I apologize," Hermione winced. "I got caught up at the library. Madame Pince was being very watchful."

"See to it that you don't get caught up again. I can't wait for little children for hours on end," he snapped. His brilliant red eyes matched that of the fire and his pale, paper white skin reminded Hermione of the books she so desperately clung to her entire life. Refusing to take the bait, she waited patiently for the Dark Lord to get to the point of their meet. "The Christmas hollidays are soon approaching."

"They are," Hermione admitted carefully. "I've received an invitation to the Burrow."

"Decline," the Dark Lord said simply. "Also..." A wicked gleam appeared in his eyes before his lips contorted into a ghost of a smile. "Do what you must to get Potter to come to your Muggle home over the hollidays. I have plans for him."

Hermione ignored the gut wrenching feeling she was getting in her stomach. "The Order would never allow-"

"Then you make them allow it," the Dark Lord hissed. Hermione suspected that if he had nostrels, they'd be flaring. "Nemesis will arrive tomorrow morning with the outline," he said, referring to the owl he had gifted Hermione with just over the summer. "I expect it to be followed exactly... However, the part that must be completed before midnight tonight is you getting Potter to join you at your residence for the hollidays. Convince the Mudbloods later, but you must make him arrive at your Muggle home." She knew that would be next to impossible. "The Order need not know."

"They'll notice if he doesn't go to the Burrow, but he's on the train," Hermione reasoned. 

"You'll think of a way," the Dark Lord said, complete faith in her. "You are, afterall, my daughter." Hermione hadn't forgotten. It was all she could think about since she had been informed of the news over the summer. The Dark Lord had ingrained it into her memory, and she had to do her part to act like she accepted it. "I do find blonde hair a very alluring trophey these days, my dear, don't you?" The Malfoys, then, were what was at stake. Maybe not Draco, nor Narcissa - they were too valuable to Draco's mission - but Lucius would be who he would harm for her to obey. And she and Lucius had becoming friends, if that. 

He was just as teriffied as she was. "It will be done."

He was gone before she could utter a word of departure and she pulled out, biting her lip as she felt eyes on her. "What do you have to do?" Draco asked. 

She stood, brushing her clothes of soot and faced the house that she had grown closer to. They treated her like she was a different person now, like she was some goddess. Hermione hated it, but she did nothing against it. She couldn't. They were good people to know. They protected her, they laughed with her, they respected her intelligence and didn't mooch off of it like Ron did, or very rarely Harry. They asked for help, if they needed it, and she taught them - and they _listened_. Though, she supposed none of her friends didn't do that. Neville listened as well and was a rather skilled learner, he just needed the confidence. And Dean was ... he was quiet, not at all dumb, and he asked for help and used the knowledge. She would say Dean was her favorite of the Gryffindor house just for that reason.

"Any idea how I can sneak Potter to my house?" Hermione asked casually. "Without the Order or Dumbledore finding out?"

Draco whistled, "Well... That's nearly impossible."

"Precisely," she muttered. She sank down into the sofa, where she had absently discarded her bag, and stared at the murky windows. "It would never work. I couldn't take him on the train with me and then take him home... Never in a million years would the Order allow him to be in my home unprotected. I'm just one witch. And then there's the Dumbledore factor. He's either too observant or he knows who I am. And I can't have the latter... So the former would be the best, but I still couldn't get Harry with it. I'm almost thinking I snog Harry, get it over with, and tell Ron that my parents want to meet him instead of my actual boyfriend."

"Would that work?"

"Considering Harry thinks of me as just his best friend, probably not," Hermione admitted. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "I could kidnap him, I suppose. But then I'd have Aurors after me." She scrunched up her nose as she dropped her hands. "Ideas, people, are greatly welcomed."

"Sleep with him," Pansy stated, looking up from her homework, grateful for the distraction. "You both get really drunk tonight, right, and you just run off and sleep together... and then you make a promise that he comes over. And there you go."

She shook her head. "Harry doesn't sleep around. And I've never seen him drunk once in five and a half years. Too far fetched, but a good last resort."

"Ugh, you'd sleep with Potter?" Draco sneered, giving her a look of disdain. "I realize you're a Gryffindor, but do you all have low standards?"

She ignored the bash at her house. "I said it was a last resort." She glanced at Blaise and Daphne. "You two?"

"Tell him you need to bring a boy home," Daphne shrugged. "You're so prude that it's believable your parents are worried about you turning nun or monk or something. Whatever your Muggles call a religion."

"And it's obvious why Weasley can't go," Blaise continued. "He's never stepped foot in the Muggle world. He'd probably blow up the house trying to use the toaster."

"Muggles have machines that make toasts at celebrations?" Draco asked, confused. 

"Do you ever pay attention in Muggle studies, mate?" Blaise laughed. He gave Hermione a pointed look. "See what I mean? Weasley would be useless."

"I like it," Hermione nodded carefully. But there was one problem. "The Order."

"You tell the truth. Your parents heard some great misfortune about Potter and want him over. You let them ward your house, patrol it, whatever. Your father doesn't even have to knock on the door to get in anyway. You have a fireplace in that panic room of yours."

It was true. Her parents had installed it because they were always gone and leaving Hermione on her own. When crime had reached a peak in the neighborhood, they had taught her how to use it. It would work.

"The Order doesn't know about it," Hermione agreed. She rose from her seat, grabbing her bag. Tucking her hair back, she fixed her clothing. "Thank you, all of you. What would I do without you?"

"So are you going to sleep with Potter or not? Because if you are, I expect you to tell me how good he is in the sack," Pansy stated. "You gave Blaise an eight."

Hermione blushed. She wasn't exactly promiscuous, but that didn't mean the Slytherins happened to rub off some of their traits on her. Not literally, of course. She had just been delighted to have been invited to a party at the Room of Requirement where they had gotten her right drunk and she had been a bit bolder than normal and she had snogged - and gone a lot farther - with Blaise Zabini. They didn't talk about it. Not because it was bad - opposite, really - but because there wasn't much to talk about. 

"And I heard Krum was a seven," Blaise stated off handedly. 

"Krum?" Daphne said in disbelief. "You _slept_ with Viktor Krum."

"She likes Quidditch players," Blaise told the blonde across from him. "They're very good with their hands." Hermione groaned, rolling her eyes as she moved away from them all. "Oi, I'd try sleeping with Potter tonight, anyway!" 

"You lot are embarrassing to be around," Hermione insisted. "We'll see," she ammended, though she knew her and Harry weren't getting close to each other like that. There simply wasn't anything between them. "And if anything does happen, Pansy will be the first to know." Daphne smirked. "Which means you'll all know in two seconds, after."

"And we'll meet in the Room of Requirement for details," Daphne said off-handedly as she moved a chess piece. "Checkmate."

She approached the Common Room door, placing a disillusionment charm around herself once more. "And I'm not prude, so don't even try it, Daphne." The door slammed shut behind her and Hermione grew silent, the pool of dread in her stomach feeling more like a hurricane. She'd have to bring Harry to her house, but she couldn't put him in danger. She couldn't just give him up to... to her father. She had to do something else. If she failed, Lucius was dead. She had to take her time and be cautious. She had to... she had to bring Harry to her house and escape before he could do something.

She needed to prepare.

It was nearly dinner time when she got back and the boys were walking down from their Common Room, hair wet from their showers and their clothing changed to their jumpers.

"Blimey, we were just about to wonder where you went," Ron exclaimed. He gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek and she grimaced slightly. Was he ever just... just not obnoxious? She reached to put her bag down, as Ron had already ducked out of the portrait to go to dinner. Harry's hand took it from her instead, setting it down on the large wing back chair by the fireplace. 

"He's just hungry."

"He's always hungry," Hermione muttered. Harry tried to smile apologetically, but she shook her head. "Look, Harry, I have a very serious question to ask you."

"I can't tell you what Dumbledore and I are doing at lessons, Hermione," Harry sighed, turning away from her as he approached the portrait. 

"I know!" Hermione said exasperated. "I wasn't going to ask-" but she still did want to know. "It's about my parents. They..." She grimaced as if saying it was putting a bad taste in her mouth, when in actuality she hated lying to him. "They want me to bring someone for Christmas holidays. Of course, I can't bring Ron... He would blow my house up with just a phonecall." Harry laughed. "So... Do you want to spend Christmas holidays with me?" She bit her lip. "Mum and Dad have a movie outing planned, and a few other things like sledding and ... I'm asking you because I know how Ron gets in the Muggle world and he wouldn't last three days before he wanted to go to the Burrow."

"Yeah, sure," Harry shrugged. "I mean, the Order won't like it, but-"

"They can ward my house or whatever, but I really need to bring someone over for holidays this year. They miss not seeing me every so often." Truth was that they probably hadn't noticed much. They saw her just as much as they did before she started at Hogwarts. "We have a guest room, and you wouldn't need to pay for anything. It'd just be a Christmas party with my relatives, if it even comes to that. My parents don't get on well with them. What do you say?"

"Ron finds out, he'll blow up," Harry warned, running a hand through his messy hair. Hermione caught a spark in his green eyes though. He liked the Muggle world. He liked it because he wasn't Harry Potter in it. He wasn't some savior and nothing great was expected of him. She knew that, even if he didn't say it. He liked the Muggle world because he wasn't always on guard, he was able to be himself. She hated the thought of ruining that for him.

"I'm thinking last minute," Hermione admitted. "Like as we're getting off the train." Harry laughed at the apprehensive look she was giving the idea. Gryffindor bravery wouldn't extend her that far as to tell him right away.

"Or after dinner," Harry suggested. Harry's Gryffindor bravery would. 

She grimaced. That soon? "Alright. But you tell him you're coming over. I'll just tell him I'm not going to the Burrow."

"Why me?" Harry muttered, fixing his glasses that rested at the bridge of his nose. She wondered what he'd look like if he got contacts. Not even contacts, but if his glasses weren't round. A different frame may make him look different. Harry was always handsome, of course, but she wondered how much would change. The way someone looked affected confidence. She had always been shy and mousy because of her exterior mousy appearance.

"Because," Hermione insisted, glancing towards the fireplace, " _you_ are the one that agreed. And _you're_ his best friend."

"And you're his girlfriend," Harry pointed out. "Precisely why you should-"

"And have him accuse me of cheating on him? No thanks," Hermione snorted. "He already thinks I slept with Dean because I helped him on his charms homework and he thanked me the next morning at breakfast." She had watched Ron get purple faced as Dean said, 'Thanks for last night, Hermione. I don't know what I would have done without you.' Though, Hermione gathered that her response of 'I'm sure you would have been able to handle it yourself, but I'm more than happy to help' was not the best she could have come up with. And then Ron had exploded as Dean walked away to join Lavender, Seamus, and Neville at the other end of the table, Pavarti appearing just seconds later. The entire school had witnessed the scene but Hermione had let him yell at her and make an idiot of himself as she just calmly replied - once he finished insulting her - that she had helped him on his essay and caught him up on a few notes he neglected to write down. 

Dean had began to apologize about the misunderstanding but Hermione stopped him, insisting that he needn't because it wasn't his fault Ron was as thick as a brick wall.

Harry grimaced, remembering as well. "Alright. I'll do it."

She smiled brightly, taking his arm as she pulled him out of the portrait. "That's the spirit. Gryffindor bravery. You're well adept at throwing yourself to the wolves."

"He's going to be angry, you realize," Harry sighed, fixing his glasses as they slid down his nose.

"You're spoiling the good mood, Harry," she chided, though she knew that she had too much to think about to even stay in a good mood in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a very distinctive riff between her and Ron, now that he was convinced his best friend had betrayed him by being interested in Hermione. She had done her bit to be offended properly by exclaiming, "What? Is _that_ what you think?" but that had been as far as her argument had gone before he began to chew out Harry. So Hermione had watched Ron storm up to his room, telling Hermione they were done for, before she turned to Harry. He looked more furious than she had been, that even Ron had been to a certain degree, and she decided it was best not to ask if he was alright, or to comment on Ron's behavior. She huffed angrily and grabbed her bag from the chair it had been in before dinner, and slid it over her shoulder.

"I'm going to the Room of Requirement, if you want to join me," Hermione offered off handed, fully expecting him not to accept, but he had surprised by giving a short nod.

"Sure, I don't think it'd be wise to go up there." He didn't have his cloak, so Hermione pulled the Map out of her bag and winked at Harry. "We'll have to be quiet."

Of course, she had already fulfilled her promise for the night. She didn't need to hang out with Harry any more than she already did - she didn't need to make it any more difficult. Her father... _Him_. It wasn't going to be easy explaining, but that wouldn't happen now. That would only happen when it was absolutely necessary - when they were literally at the final battle, staring her father down as he was murdered.

Being his daughter changed nothing of her hate for him. She despised the man, blood or not. He deserved to be in the deepest pit of hell, fires blazing around him as he realized the horror he had done upon the world. One day, and she hoped it was soon, it would happen. He would fall and she'd be free. She wanted it to happen right now, before the night could ever end. But it wouldn't. Hermione had enough logic, and self preservation, to know that. she couldn't just approach him and kill him. Life didn't work that way. someone would get hurt first. 

The hallways were bare, despite curfew not even close to approaching. Hermione pulled Harry up to the Room of Requirement and when he opened the door, he gave a bark of laughter to see a table of vodka and a few couches. Hermione threw him a quick smile as she dropped her bag and said, "Mischief managed" before she pulled a bottle of vodka off the table and uncorked it. As she plopped on a chaise lounge, Harry sat across from her with his on bottle.

"He makes me so angry," Hermione admitted. "I feel so helpless." She took a long swig, coughing as it burned her throat.

"Helpless? You handle him better than everyone we know, though Mrs. Weasley has a bit of a firmer grip." Hermione laughed at that and waited until Harry took a hesitant drink before she drank herself. 

"I don't think you've ever had a right on drink, that I've seen," Hermione pried gently. He gave a smirk before taking another drink. "I mean, the boys have loads of parties."

"I've never been interested in alcohol. With Voldemort, I don't think it's best to get involved with it." Harry glanced at the bottle in his hand uneasily. 

Hermione hid her frown of disappointment, instead saying, "You don't have to drink it if you don't want to. The Room can bring Butterbeer."

He shook his head, taking a sip of the vodka, grimacing slightly. "Voldemort isn't going to get us in the Room of Requirement. I'll be fine." If only he knew Draco's task. She watched him take another swig before she determined that he'd be a lightweight when he gave her a rather odd smile. She leaned forward in her seat, but not moving from her laying position.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, how well have your advances on Ginny gone lately?"

"She's still with Dean, so ... they haven't been advances at all?" Harry shook his head, taking another sip. "I don't even know why I still try. She obviously doesn't like me. So, I'm thinking of moving on. Maybe one day she'll like me, but-"

"Well, here's to single life," Hermione giggled, holding out her bottle for him to clink it with. He did so, leaning back and taking another large gulp of the clear liquid. Hermione grinned to herself. "You know, Ron's horrid in bed."

"Really?" Harry seemed a little blurry eyed as he blinked at her. Yes, definitely a light-weight. "Him and Lavender seemed pretty-"

"Mess," Hermione promised. "Slobbery and... and he can't even look at me. And then it's just... over. Like, you're probably great Harry, but Ron..." She grimaced, sipping from her bottle. "No way. I'm glad I've only experienced that a few times. He finishes, flops over, and falls asleep. I can't even finish. Like, eugh-" She took another large gulp, watching him carefully as he took his own. "What about you, Harry? Who's had the ellusive Harry Potter?"

A faint blush tainted his cheeks. "I never took you for the type to drink, let alone to talk about this... or _do_ this."

"We all have our secrets," Hermione admitted quietly. "I escape a lot here to get my mind off of things. When you all think I'm taking late night study session in the library..." She held up her bottle, knowing she was lying, but he seemed to take her different character in with a nod at that. "The war is stressful. This helps me deal with it while I get out some frustration and study at the same time."

He took another long sip, seeming to be used to the burn as he pulled it away from his lips. Hermione couldn't help but watch him closely. He pulled his glasses off, rubbing his face. "It's... numbing."

"Exactly," Hermione smirked. She set her bottle down, a little tipsy, but otherwise alright. Harry, however, took another drink and she could tell that he was starting to lose his sense of self-preservation.

"I hate it all, you know. The whole Harry Potter thing."

"Anyone would," Hermione admitted. 

"I've only ever slept with Pavarti," he stated after a moment. "You asked," he reminded her as if she had forgot. "It was after Quidditch one day and I was just finishing up in the shower and she walked into the locker room on accident. I had a towel on, but she kept apologizing and so... I just kissed her. Hardly romantic. We don't talk about it. What about you?" He took another sip, relishing it now. She noticed half the bottle was gone and gently leaned across the table to take it from him. He was drunk enough. 

"Well, Viktor," she admitted, taking it from his grasp and taking a sip of it before placing it on the table. He was about to say something but she continued. "Ron, of course."

"That's it? You made it seem like you had a bit to judge Ron on," Harry admitted. She wasn't offended by the question. She knew what he meant and Harry wasn't the type to be rude to her by insulting her. 

"Well, there was one, but you aren't going to be happy about it," she admitted. "It was a one time thing and I was helping him on his homework and he needed a little... motivation." He looked at her expectantly. "You know Blaise Zabini, right?"

He blinked. "You slept with Malfoy's best friend?"

Uh oh. She giggled, trying to keep the mood light. "When you put it like that, it's like I'm the enemy here. He's not... Malfoy's best friend," she immitated his voice and he frowned. "He's a Slytherin, yes. Just like Pansy is, and she's slept with Seamus. I heard it wasn't that great, either." 

"When was this?"

"Uh... around my birthday, I'd say. Beginning of the year. We had a big Arithmancy project together." She gave him a bright smile. "He's actually really great in the sack." She feigned innocence as she continued. "Just like I'm sure you are. I gave him an eight. Think you could do better, Mr. Potter?"

He seemed apprehensive at her proposition. "You're like... my best friend, Hermione."

"Am I like your sister?" Hermione asked, confused. "Does that make it weird?"

"Bloody hell, you couldn't be like my sister. I mean, look at you," Harry blurted. "You're every guy's dream and now that I know you sneak around and you aren't really in the library, bloody hell-"

"You're starting to sound like Ron," she warned.

Harry shook his head, reaching for the bottle of liquid luck. She let him, watching in satisfaction as he took a few gulps, and placed the bottle back on the table. "How did you and Zabini even... where?"

"Slytherin Common Room," she replied honestly. His eyebrows quirked up. "Honestly, I think about five people saw me being led in there. What happens there, stays there. They're pretty good at keeping secrets. Mudblood princess be damned."

"Don't call yourself that," Harry said sharply. "You can't believe that."

He needed a bit of prodding. "Blaise certainly doesn't. He's not like them, you know. He's rather... kind." She knew it would get him riled up. And then he'd be bold. He was always bolder when he was angry. " _He_ doesn't call me a Mudblood. Ever since that night, well, Malfoy hasn't called me one either. It's like a respect, thing, I suppose. If one of the elite Slytherins think I'm good enough to bed, well, I must be worth something." She shot him a smirk. "Does it mean anything to me? Of course not. Do they know that? Of course they do. Who knew that after five and a half years, all it took was a simple one night stand?"

Harry slammed the bottle on the table, causing her to lean back in her seat as he stood. The echo vibrated through the room. "You make it sound like they paid you for it. Like you slept with him for the respect he'd pay you."

She knew she was knocking herself down, talking about all these things like it was nothing more than a hook up, but he didn't know the truth of it... he couldn't know. "It was just a result that I didn't expect. He certainly didn't pay me. And besides, he wasn't _that_ good. I still think you'd be better."

"Ron just dumped you."

"And if you think logically, you need another drink," Hermione admitted. She took a deep breath. Gryffindor bravery. "I'm going to be straight with you Harry. I'm asking you to have sex with me. Ginny never has to find out, if you don't want. Ron... well, Ron doesn't have to find out either. No one has to know if you don't want them to. I don't care who knows, personally. I'm not shy about it. So, Harry, are you just going to stand there, contemplating whether or not you're going to have a romp with me, or are you actually going to do something about it because the window won't be open for long."

She stood up, her legs feeling light under her from the alcohol, and she came around the table to where Harry was, hooking her arms around his neck. Bold. Be bold. She had to keep telling herself that, or Pansy and Daphne would tease her for weeks on end on how she didn't step up to the challenge. She hated girls who slept around - she despised them for making themselves cheap. Yet here she was. It wasn't that she hated it. She liked Harry - she loved him. He was her best friend. She was his. This wouldn't ruin anything. She knew that. They were good enough friends for that. It wasn't like she slept around, either. Viktor and her hadn't gotten together until she visited Bulgaria over the summer, way before anything happened, and that had been because they _were_ in a relationship. Her and Ron were in a relationship, as well. Zabini... they were friends. She truly had been helping him with his homework. 

So it wasn't that she had any problems with it. She wasn't uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually. She never did anything she was uncomfortable with - except force Harry to come to her house over holidays and possibly get him killed even though she's trying to save him. 

"The window's starting to close, Harry," she murmured. Hermione stood on her tippy-toes, her breath warm as it fanned across his collar bone. She was too short to be any match to his hundred and eight centimeter height. "Five... Four... _Three_." Hermione brushed her lips against his collarbone. "Two... Two and a half. Oh, the window's stuck on a rusty nail." She giggled up at him, his breath coming out unevenly. He couldn't see her properly, due to his glasses being off. "You can picture me as Ginny, if you'd like. _Two and a quarter."_

"Bloody hell. Am I going to regret this?" he groaned.

"Not likely," she admitted. He seemed to like the confidence she had with her and he exhaled loudly. " _One..._ "

She barely had time to open her mouth to say "Time's up" when lips slammed into her own. The kiss tasted, first and foremost, of alcohol. Vodka was on his breath, his tongue, his lips. Hermione liked it, much more than she should. Her arms tightened, pulling him closer to her, her fingers twisting in his messy hair that desperately needed a cut.

"Shouldn't we have a bed or something for this?" he muttered when he moved his kisses down her jaw, towards her collarbone. A small gasp escaped her lips as he found a spot that made her feel weak in the knees. 

"Walk back," she insisted, giving him a gentle shove, but not breaking their contact. They only walked two steps before his legs hit the edge of a mattress, causing him to topple over. But before he could hit the soft fabric, he spun them so that she landed on the plush object and he was hovering over her. " _This_ is why I like Quidditch players," she giggled. Harry chuckled under his breath, husky, as he fumbled with the buttons on her jumper. She reached for her wand in her pocket and waved it, placing a spell form of a contraceptive upon them both. There was no chance in hell they'd not be safe. 

"What was that?" Harry muttered.

"Birth control," she responded before tugging his hair and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss as he pushed her jumped off and began on his own shirt. They only broke for air when it was properly off and not caught around his head in his attempt to hurry. After she laughed under her breath, it turned quickly into a sigh of pleasure as Harry trailed kissing down her chest, stopping at her bra. It was simple, black, nothing fancy. 

"If you want to stop-"

"Don't even finish that sentence, Potter," she warned. 

"Guess not," Harry muttered and she felt his smile against her skin as he kissed lower until his lips touched her navel. His fingers gripped her hips to keep her from squirming. "Is this okay?"

A moan left her lips as she could do nothing but nod. His hands moved then, unbuttoning her jeans and he tugged them off. Hermione tried to help by kicking them off, but she still had her shoes on and groaned as she sat up and pulled them off. Before she could even comprehend, Harry had her pinned back into the bed, his hands gripping her thighs, pulling her closer to him. Lights. The lights were still on. She reached absently for the wand she had somewhere near her and when her fingers grasped it, she hesitated. "Can you see with the lights out?"

"My eyesight isn't _that_ bad."

"Nox," Hermione murmured and everything went dark. It was easy to say that Harry knew what he was doing. She didn't know how - especially if he had only one lover and that was in the Quidditch locker room - but she didn't seem to care as she felt the heat on her skin and the sweat that coated both of their bodies as they collapsed side by side. Their arms touched, and she felt Harry reaching for something. As her fingers slid into his, he laced them together and let out a sigh of content.

"Bloody hell. Can we just not move from this spot ever?"

The alcohol was slowly leaving him, and nothing seemed to change. Maybe he wasn't a lightweight. Maybe he could hold it better than she thought. "Course not. It's a Saturday. No class in the morning, just breakfast. Though I don't particularly condone it, you do have a house elf that would be quite willing to bring us breakfast."

He gave a bark of laughter. "Can I ravish you in the morning?"

She gave a grin, turning on her side to face him. Though he couldn't see her that well in the dark, he glanced in her direction, his eyes meeting her own in the soft glow of the torches by the entrance. "If you still want to when you wake up, Mr. Potter, you're more than welcome too. That was the best bloody shag I've ever gotten. And that's saying something."

"Better than an eight?"

She smirked, her head dropping to the pillow as she clutched his hand tightly. "Loads better."

She saw the satisfied smirk light up his face and she moved slighty to grab the covers. "Let's sleep here. No one will notice us missing. And if they do, we did piss off Ron... You certainly don't want to be in the same room as him and I didn't want you to mope by yourself."

"Let's not talk about Ron," he said quietly. "Okay?"

"'kay." She slid the blankets over her and snuggled into the warmth beside her as he covered himself as well. "By the way, I think you're a ten in bed. Bloody hell." 

"Ten? Out of what?"

"Ten... That was spectacular. I didn't think anything could ever be perfect like that. Is there anything you _aren't_ good at."

"Herbology. I have a bit of a black thumb."

She laughed quietly and closed her eyes, letting out a small breath after a moment of silence. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night, 'Mione."

She drifted off to sleep, Harry soon to follow, for the most content sleep in a while, for either of them. Hermione wasn't plagued with the nightmares she had been receiving of her Muggle parents being tortured, or her father torturing Harry, or Ron, or killing Lucius or Narcissa. Harry wasn't plagued with the nightmares of his godfather's death, nor Diggory's. Instead the Boy Wonder slept with a smile on his face and Hermione slept with a small frown as she was transported someplace that didn't feel like a dream. Neither noticed the golden glow that seemed to encompass them as they slept. Neither felt the magic in the room shift. All that mattered was the solace they found within each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione's breath left her in calming pants as she knelt on the hard marble floor. There was darkness all around her, blocking out her vision. But there was a light source nearby, she could see it like it was just beyond a doorway - framed by something. A figure moved and blocked the light, though, making Hermione's gaze drop to the floor. The black robes of the approaching figure swished against the white marble of Malfoy Manor. "Has he agreed?"

"Yes," Hermione said quietly. "I'll be bringing him home with me straight from the train. The Order will want to ward my home, but there is a fire place in the panic room that will be easy for you to come in through."

There was a laugh before a pale face appeared in front of her vision, glowing in the dark of the room. "And the Order doesn't know of this room?"

"It's impossible for them to. It's not in the floor plans, and I've breathed no word of it. No one has been to my house from the Order, save for McGonagall when I got my letter-"

"Very well," he said shortly. "The day after your return, I will arrive via _Floo_ to your Muggle residence. Potter better be there. If he isn't-"

"He will be," Hermione said with conviction.

"Draco has mended the cabinet. The night before the end of term is the expected date of infiltration. Will you be able to manage this?"

Hermione nodded. "I should have prefect patrols that night with Pansy, which will give me an allabi for that night." Her gaze shifted up slightly. "I will be accompanying Draco, then?" At his nod she continued. "And he is to be the one to take possession of the Elder Wand?"

"Yes, I'd hate to lose one of my more skilled Death Eaters in this process," the Dark Lord admitted. Hermione furrowed her brow as she looked down again. Lose one of his more skilled...? "Draco is to be the one to kill him. If he doesn't-"

"You're going to kill Draco, once he acquires the Elder Wand," Hermione murmured. "You'll kill whoever has the Elder Wand, to keep the power for youreslf."

He grinned. "Very smart. You must have inherited my brains, Kalisto." She hated that name. Hated it since he told her it was her own birth name. The name he and her mother had given her. Kalisto Hermione Riddle. It made her feel like spiders were crawling across her skin. Her name was Hermione. It always had been and always will be. "Yes, when Draco kills the fool, I will kill Draco. But not until the opportune moment." The opportune moment, so Draco has no idea he will die until it's too late. Hermione couldn't warn him, not without him backing out. He wasn't a sacrificial hero sort of guy. He sacrificed his entire life to fulfill the Dark Lord's wish he be marked - and this was why.

"I'll make sure he does it," Hermione stated calmly.

"Someone is trying to wake you," Voldemort stated slowly. "Who?"

"Probably Potter," Hermione replied honestly. "I fell asleep in the Common Room last night."

"And your relationship with Weasley?"

"Mending, as always," she said quietly. "We had a row last night, but I intend to fix it in the morning."

He gave a short nod before Hermione was given access to her own dreams. Instead of staying in them, she jolted awake and glanced up at Harry, seeing concern in his unglassed face. "You were having a nightmare."

"Right," she muttered. She threw her hands over her face as she took a deep breath. "I, uh, need to go and -" Snape, she had to find Snape. "I need to find McGonnagall, and if I can't, I'll be in the library. I've just remembered to tell her that we need to switch prefect rounds-" Hermione reached for the disgarded clothes on the floor, and as she began to put her jumper back on, Harry caught her arm.

"This was a mistake, wasn't it?"

She smirked as she looked at him, "I don't think so." His hair was messy, more so than usual, sticking every which way. His green eyes were watching her worriedly, though she was probably a bit fuzzy, as she pulled her jumper over her naked skin. "We can meet here later, if you'd like."

"Er..." Harry rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away from her. "Sure. Uh... about Ron and Ginny-"

"Secrets are best kept untold, if that's what you'd like," Hermione stated. "I think Ron would... well, he'd blow up like a cauldron in Potions." He snorted at that. She stood, pulling on her jeans, before she leaned towards Harry, kissing his cheek lightly. "Eat some breakfast for me."

"Hermione-" he cried, but she slid on her shoes and used her wand to transfigure her clothing into something new and fresh - that she wasn't wearing yesterday - and didn't look back as she left the Room of Requirement. The bright lights of the hall made her wince. Headache. No, hangover. Merlin. She squinted and stumbled along the hallways until she reached the dungeons.

"Fuck, it's the Mudblood. Hungover?" Draco's voice did nothing to allieve her ache. She nodded numbly. "What are you doing down here, Granger? It's midday."

"I need to see Professor Snape. Right now," Hermione spoke quickly. She glanced around them and saw that no one was near. "Hurry, Draco. Where is he?"

"At the Great Hall for breakfast, with everyone else. Why aren't you there?"

"I need to talk to him right now," Hermione snapped. "Can you pass him a message? I'll be waiting at his office. Oh, and tell Pansy I'm taking ten points off for dress code violation." He seemed confused at that. "She'll know what I'm talking about. But also tell her that I'll cut her tongue out if she breathes a word to anyone else."

"Uh, alright... I'll get Snape, then." He looked more concerned as she moved down the dungeon hall than confused. She supposed that was better. She glanced to make sure no one was watching before she opened the Potion Classrooms door and shut it quickly behind her. Groaning, she realized she left her bag in the Room of Requirement... with Harry. She cursed under her breath and glanced away from the windows at the same time. He'd search her bag - not on purpose, but because it had fallen last night and was no doubt strewn about. Being a proper gentleman, he'd put it back together and notice... the map. Hermione sat front and center in the classroom, where her first seat had been nearly five and a half years ago. She knew Professor Snape was no longer Potions Master, but this is where his office connected, and he hadn't changed his quarters to accompany his career change. He was, first and foremost, a Slytherin Head.

"Miss Granger," a cold voice greeted.

"Day before term. Draco's ready," she stated without even glancing at him. "Draco is to kill the Headmaster, and then he will kill Draco when he sees fit."

"And you're absolutely certain?"

She glanced at him to see that he was already thinking, but the question seemed like a reflex to him than anything. She nodded, her fingers strumming on the table in front of her. "I've been thinking nonstop since I found out this morning. I've come up with three possible scenarios." He raised an eyebrow for her to continue as he perched himself on the edge of the professor desk in front of the room. "The first, and trickiest, would be Draco killing Dumbledore and then, when the time comes, Draco flees. However, informing Draco of the Dark Lord's intent would . . . well, that would scare him shitless and he wouldn't even want to kill Dumbledore, just like he doesn't now." Severus nodded in agreement. "Secondly, polyjuice. If someone, most likely myself, polyjuices into Draco..." she exhaled, "and kills the Headmaster, then that person would be the possessor-"

"Would he still try to kill Draco, is the question, Miss Granger. And it's one we must think of carefully. The Dark Lord would still think Draco was the possessor-"

"Which leads me to my third scenario and ... the one that will cause the most punishment and the ..." She hesitated a moment and he noticed. The brooding Defense teacher didn't push as Hermione sighed and said quietly. "I'd kill the Headmaster. I'd go with Draco and ... Draco would disarm the Headmaster, I would kill." Severus Snape's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "The Dark Lord would kill me, which would... would make Draco still the possessor of the Elder Wand... Meaning at the opportune moment, he wouldn't have that power. He would think he did, but he wouldn't possess it. Am I willing to kill the Headmaster? No. I don't think I could do it if it meant Harry's own life. Which it quite clearly does." Hermione ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as it was a bit frazzled from last night. "Could I gain immunity to do it? Anyone can, so of course I can. How long would I have left to live? Long enough to get Harry to safety this holiday? Undoubtedly. Long enough to keep him alive while we're on the run? No chance in hell. So the question that remains unanswered, sir, is can you help me kill the Headmaster?"

"You're quite certain there is no other way?"

"I can't imagine one," Hermione admitted quietly. "Either Bellatrix will want to do it herself, or she'll force Draco. She wouldn't... She'd be very proud if her daughter was the one to murder the most powerful wizard in the world. I think it would gain their trust, prove that I'm not completely lost to the Order's cause. If I can give them this false hope, I can help the Order-"

"And when you run with Potter? Because apparently you're intent on taking him with you to your Muggle home, where the Dark Lord no doubt has some plan to get to Potter."

"Of course that's what he has a plan for. Who do you think came up with the idea?" Hermione muttered. "I'm taking Harry with me, and as soon as we get to my home, we'll apparate away and to some hide out. When it's safe... we'll come back somewhere."

Severus sighed. "Very well. I will teach you. Every night until that night, is that understood? I will get in touch with the Headmaster to inform him of this plan, you need only convince Draco of the change. Meet at the Slytherin Common Room tonight."

She hesitated. "I'd prefer somewhere else, to keep suspicion of this development minimal."

He let out an irritated sigh. "Miss Granger, even though your loyalties lie very clearly with the Order, this will ruin everything."

She nodded carefully. "That's sort of the point, isn't it, Professor? Ruin everything he's trying to make, and giving the Order anything at the same time. If I die because of this... I've always been willing to die for the Order, sir. This will be no different."

"And when Potter discovers your involvement? How will you get him to go with you on the holidays?"

"I'll think of something, sir. You'll know beforehand, I'm sure."

He stared at her a moment. Before, she would have thought he was trying to find fault. They were together in this, however. They were both spies - both unwillingly involved in their life's calling. "Indeed I will," Severus said slowly. "Where have you been?"

"The Room of Requirement, sir."

"Yes, I can tell." He looked her over before pushing away and towards the entrance door. "When you have a midnight rendez-vous with Potter, do better to hide your love bites. You do not want the Dark Lord to find out about that."

She rose quickly. "Sir, I-" She blushed brightly as he raised an eyebrow. "I didn't exactly... we had a bit to drink, so it didn't mean anything-"

"See to it that it stays that way," Severus stated simply. "THe Dark Lord will use any weakness Potter posseses. Even if it's you."

She nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor as she swayed a few steps. "I-I don't feel very good, sir." She gripped the table beside her, her legs nearly collapsing underneath her. Did she drink something? No, just the vodka from last night. She didn't have breakfast, but she wasn't very hungry. She felt light headed and... her legs were getting weaker. She didn't realize she had fallen to the ground until Snape was helping her stand and sit in the seat. "Where's Potter?"

"Room of Requirement... he missed breakfast... I think. He has to be in there. Uh- Think of Hermione's hide-out." She blinked as she lifted her hand in front of her. It was golden - not the skin. The haze that was misting above it. He was gone in a flurry of robes. What was wrong? She had never read anything like this.

The Draught of Living Death slowly shut down a person's organs. As the person slowly died internally, their magic would place a stasis charm around them. There have never been any records of any gold mist. Hermione felt tears pooling in her eyes. It didn't hurt, if she was dying. She felt the numbing feeling spreading and she loss track of time. The next thing she knew, Professor Snape's face was in view and then Harry's. 

"There's no books about this," Hermione felt herself saying.

"Potter, touch her hand," Snape snapped. "Now, fool. The one with the gold-" She saw him reach over and grab Harry's wrist before it was slammed into her own. Hermione jolted as if she had been woken. Snape moved his wrist away and Hermione sagged in her chair, as though the life had gone from her. "Fuck," Snape muttered. Hermione didn't recall a moment where he ever cursed. "Potter don't move from this position. I'm going to get Dumbledore. If you're too much of a flabberworm to obey, then I can-"

"Sir, what's wrong with her?" Harry's voice demanded.

"I suspect poison. Now do as I said-"

He was gone before he could finish the sentence. Hermione felt Harry's hand take her own. "What happened?" Harry whispered.

"I-" She swallowed. "I don't know. I was trying to find McGonnagal and one of the Ravenclaw's said that she was talking to Slughorn, but Slughorn wasn't here and I just... I collapsed in the hall. Snape found me-" 

"What caused this? Did you drink anything?" he asked.

"I'm not stupid, Harry. I don't know! One minute I'm fine and the next..." She gazed at their entwined hands, where the golden mist was slowly receeding back into her palm. She had no idea what was going on, and it terrified her. Harry dropped her bag onto the table in front of her. "You left this in the Room of Requirement."

Hermione blanched at seeing it. "Er, thanks, Harry. You could have just left it there-"

"I was going to, but the map's inside and..." He glanced away from her. "Hermione, you have a different map."

"Yes. Harry, don't ask questions. I'm doing necessary research for us to win, trust me on that."

"Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked. "Hermione-"

She met his eyes. "Trust me?"

He leaned back slightly and took the seat beside her, his gaze on the backpack. "Yeah, I trust you."  


	4. Chapter 4

Albus Dumbledore arrived in a flurry of periwinkle robes and lemon scented breath before he leaned over the table to assess Hermione. His once curious blue twinkle in his eyes was hard and he actually looked... concerned. Hermione barely knew the man - Harry always was the one to go to the Headmaster's office and have long chats with him, now moreso than later. "Miss Granger, I need you to tell me if you've been sexually active-"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hermione blushed furiously. Sexually active? How could that affect her magic like this? It didn't. Magic was only altered by pregnancy, and even then, not to the extent it had altered Hermione. She lifted her hand, but the gold was gone now - now that Harry was here. Did Harry have anything to do with this? Harry's fingers tighened on Hermione's own. The Headmaster's gaze flickered towards Hary, before he seemed to get his answer. "Sir, I've never read anything like this before. The magic-"

"Is the same magic performed every day in the Wizarding World, Miss Granger," the Headmaster stated simply, as though she should know this as well. But Hermione's mind raced as she tried to think of something - any sort of explanation. She stiffened slightly as he raised his wand and flicked it, but the spell had no visible affect on her. However, the Headmaster made a small noise before turning to Severus and seemingly having a conversation with their eyes.

"Sir, what's going on?" Harry asked.

"That is something that... have you left the grounds at all?" Dumbledore asked. His tone was hard, and he stared at Harry.

"No! Sir, I haven't-"

"Miss Granger?"

"No," Hermione insisted, desperately. "What's going on? What's wrong with my magic?" She felt fear bubbling in her throat. Was she losing her magic? She couldn't! The Dark Lord needed her - she needed to help Draco. She couldn't lose her magic! Simply enough.

"Miss Granger, your," he paused, clearing his throat, " _activities_ with Mister Potter have ignited a ... a magicial rite. I am unsure how, but the results are simple enough-"

"Results?" Hermione protested. "What results?" She glanced at Harry, confused. He didn't seem to know what was going on either. She supposed that was a good sign? It meant he didn't know anything about her father... he didn't know, so he couldn't have done anything to her. She hated the thought, but she had been paranoid for the past few months and this was simply ... well, it was her letting her shield drop and Harry being there to comfort her without him knowing much about why.

"Why, you two have completed a marriage bond."

Hermione choked on air. "What? This has got to be some mistake, professor-"

"I assure you," Dumbledore said calmly. "It is no mistake."

"But, sir, that's- we didn't get married!" Harry insisted.

"Why wouldn't this have happened before?" Hermione insisted. "With any other guy or girl we've been with, then? I've been in the Room of Requirement before, and excuse me for being crass, Professor, but we weren't suddenly married after we had sex! So what makes this so different?"

"Parental consent," Dumbledore said simply. "On the woman's side. Hermione, your father likes Harry, does he not?"

But he knew who her father-oh. "Yes, he does have an interest in Harry," Hermione admitted. "But why would-"

"When a wizard asks for a witch's hand, it is asked of her father if he approves of the man. Not approves, per say, but would be interested in having him in the home." Wants Harry close enough to Hermione so that she could bring him to his slaughter. "It's a simple statement. And it could have happened with anyone-"

"But my parents like Ron," Hermione insisted. "I mean, they wanted me to be with Ron and-"

"They must not like Ron as much as Harry, then," Dumbledore explained calmly, but Hermione understood. "The rights to marriage goes to the suitor they take the most interest in."

Hermione rubbed her temple with her free hand. "So Harry and I are married and we have to hold hands all the time or... my magic starts to leave my body like some bloody perfume?"

"I understand you're upset-"

"I'm seventeen! I shouldn't be married! No offense, Harry, you're a great person, but I don't _want_ to be married to anyone." No one would want to be married to her. "I probably won't even survive this war, let alone survive a marriage!" Hermione had somehow risen during her speech and she was on the verge of tears.

"I suggest you tell him, Hermione," Dumbledore said after a moment of silence.

"Tell me what?" Harry asked, confused. It had been the first time he spoke in a long time, Hermione noticed. He sounded suspicious.

"I've been working for the Order," Hermione said simply, giving a look to Dumbledore that clearly said she couldn't tell Harry everything now. "I'm Blaise's Arithmancy partner, and he passes information to me from other Slytherins... He's a neutral party in the war, but he does hear things. Like the Death Eaters residing in Malfoy Manor-"

"We already knew that-"

"Are more likely to be the Inner Circle, instead of the random people. If that's the case," Hermione swallowed and sat back down quietly. "Then infiltrating Malfoy Manor will be tedious and could amount to a great loss of life on our side."

"That's why you have a floor plan of Malfoy Manor in your bag?"

Hermione let out a breath. "Yes." She cleared her throat as Harry seemed to process this. She couldn't tell him. Not yet. Maybe not ever. "Professor, how do I make my magic stop leaving like it has been?" she asked, staring at her free hand. "There's got to be some way rather than being together all the time. I don't have some classes with him and-I'd-" She glanced at Harry. "I'd like to keep this a secret for as long as possible."

He seemed to agree. "Voldemort can use you against me and he could potentially hurt you to get to me." He had no idea and it tore her apart. "No one can find out about this until he's gone."

She nodded in agreement, glancing back at the two professors. Snape, who seemed stoic, and Dumbledore, who was more resigned to the fates of the two pupils in front of him. "The only way to prevent the golden aura from becoming visible is to consumate your marriage, and to wear a pair of rings." Hermione noticed he looked visibly flustered. He selected a quill from Hermione's bag. "May I?"

She nodded, unsure what he was about to do. She was about to protest when he broke the quill in two. "I thought you were going to use it, not-" Her words died in her throat as he waved his wand to transfigure them. The two broken pieces of the feather curled up and end touched end as they formed two golden rings. They clambered on the potions table and she saw Snape stiffen as he stood straighter.

"Albus, you do realize that if they wear matching rings, people will be bound to notice," Severus stated. "The Dark Lord will notice. There are spies everywhere that are watching the both of them-"

Hermione reached for one with her free hand and held it carefully. "He's right, sir. Someone will notice."

"Glamours to cover them, I think. Or to disguise them as something else." The headmaster gestured for them to put them on and Hermione slid hers on her finger after letting go of Harry's hand for only a few seconds. Immediately the gold light began to leave her, once more. She gasped in fear and clutched Harry's hand immediately.

"Sir, what happens if I'm away from Harry and that light occurs? What would happen if we didn't... consumate this?"

"You would die, Miss Granger," Snape said simply. "Or should I say Mrs. Potter?"

She blanched. "Why doesn't his magic do that, then? Why is it just me?"

"It is your magic trying to mingle with his," Albus said calmly. "Usually, given the fact that this is a wizard bond, there are extensive discussions on the matter given from a parental figure to one or the other - Molly Weasley, for example. But I fear that it's a bit too late for that."

"Just a bit, sir," Hermione agreed mutely. Merlin's beard. _Married_? Her father was going to kill her or praise her... either way it'd be unbearable. He couldn't know. That was simple. Very simple. She met Dumbledore's eyes and his own held... pity? Maybe even regret. She glanced away quickly, knowing he wanted her to tell Harry. Knowing he wanted her to speak the truth. "How long until my magic kills me, sir?"

Dumbledore contemplated the question, but it was Snape who answered. "You've already spent the eight hours that would normally be considered the time limit sleeping or doing other activities." His black eyes darted between Hermione and Harry in disdain. "I'd say four more hours until Miss Granger is unable to function past that of a blithering infant."

So that wasn't that short of time, then. Her and Harry could have sex in four hours with plenty of time to spare - it was just the matter of getting in the mood. She couldn't exactly have sex on command.

"I think it best you be allowed to skip your classes this evening," Dumbledore said after a moment. "Potions and Transfiguration, correct?"

"Arithmancy for me as well, sir," Hermione stated quietly.

"Right, then, off you go! I expect to see you for dinner."

"Yes, sir," Hermione nodded. She grabbed her bag, sliding it over her shoulder. She knew when she was dismissed. Glancing at Harry, he gave a small nod and they walked through the door, hand in hand. Once it shut behind them, she bit her lip. "I'm sorry... This is all my fault-"

"Not really," Harry shrugged. "Bloody hell, I didn't even think I'd survive the war to get married."

"Neither did I," Hermione admitted. She led them through the back staircase in order to climb the stairs. "I'm really sorry though. I shouldn't have... propositioned you like that. God, that makes it sound like I'm some evil wench or something-"

"Ron and Ginny are going to go ballistic."

The bookworm groaned, knowing it was going to be just that. "I don't know what to offer for that situation... If we keep it a secret, I mean, we'd have to - we need to - then they'd still try to make amends on relationships, in Ron's case, or try to get in a relationship, in Ginny's case."

"And we shouldn't let them...?" Harry asked, making sure he was going in the right direction in the conversation.

Hermione hesitated and waited until they were outside the Room of Requirement before stating quite plainly, albiet, a bit hesitantly. "No, I think ... maybe, if that's alright, we should. But not to the extent we... have sex with them. That would violate the charms a, uh, bonded couple has - fidelity charms. It results in excruciating pain if you try."

"So you do know a bit about this then?" Harry asked, holding the door open for her, though they were still connected.

Hermione set her bag down on the couch much like last night's and sighed. "Sort of. I know about fidelity charms, a few extra things - like we're sort of connected. If you die, I'll know immediately. Where, when, how, who - everything. I'll feel it too. Same as if I were to die. And we have to... renew the - well, to put it bluntly we have to have sex every week. So on the course we're on now, every Friday or so."

"And if we don't?" Harry asked.

She hesitated. "Well, we weaken. We're strongest, technically, right after we have sex. And we gradually weaken until we have sex again. So essentially, after a week, we'd be weaker and our magic would weaken... And eventually you and I would become - well, this is all in theory, of course - Muggles. No magic at all. But that could be months and months, not just weekly."

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. "So not just winter break, but summer break, too."

Oh, she hadn't thought of that. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I had no idea. I thought it couldn't happen this way. Nothing I've ever read said it could happen this way! And now just one night of getting you drunk so we could both relax and forget about the war has made everything ten times harder!" She sighed and shook her head. "We can't... we can't have people suspicious, agreed?"

"We need to act like nothing happened," Harry nodded. They were standing still, in the middle of the Room of Requirement, and the air was unbelievably awkward. "I would suggest alcohol, but I have a feeling we need to go to dinner, so-"

"What is our cover story?" Hermione asked, collapsing down on the sofa closest to her. Harry sat beside her. "You know Ginny and Ron will ask where we both went."

"Family emergency?"

"No, that wouldn't work. You could claim that you went to the Room of Requirement, or lessons with Dumbledore...?"

"And you?"

Hermione didn't know. She didn't have anything to claim. "You needed my help? Or... or maybe Order business? I could claim Order business!" She cried so loudly, Harry winced. She glanced at their clasped hands. "I was researching something for the Order and Dumbledore gave me leave for the day. And you-"

"I was helping you because-"

"Because it involved the prophecy and we had to figure out if there were alternative means for the wording. We were in the Room of Requirement, studying books that had been thrown in here, all night, because we were intercepted and brought to Dumbledore's office after we left, and they were advanced books and I needed an extra pair of eyes, because there was no way I could possibly go through them all by dinner. So you helped me cut down the time, and-"

"What are we looking for?"

"Like, if something in a prophecy can mean two different things. Like power he knows not, could mean he has a power he doesn't know about that kills him, or you have a power that no one knows about. He isn't very defined, but it's implied its a power the Dark Lord doesn't know about." Harry agreed with a small nod. "So if anyone asks, that's what we found. I've already told Dumbledore that bit of info anyway, so it's not like it would be news to him."

"How much Order research do you do?"

Hermione hesitated. "A lot more than you would expect, or have suspected, I think."

"And you can't tell me?"

"Not now," Hermione said quietly. "I will, though, Christmas break. I promise that. I just... I want the last week and a half of term to be normal."

"And it won't if you told me? Is it that bad?"

She didn't know how to answer that. "This is going to be awkward, isn't it?"

He knew what she was referring to and glanced down at their clasped hands. "It doesn't have to be if it's done right."


End file.
